


Put Your Hand In Mine

by killingmonsterswritingthings



Category: Snowboarding RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Fluff, Furniture Shopping, IKEA, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingmonsterswritingthings/pseuds/killingmonsterswritingthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Staale have been together for over three years now and they're sick of missing each other. The logical next step? Getting a place together, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Your Hand In Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Man, the issues of starting and finishing fics. This one took ages. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the people in this fanfic, that would be weird. I am in no way affiliated with them, either. This is a work of fiction, written for my own (and hopefully your) amusement and is in no way meant to offend or gain any kind of monetary profit.

When they talked about it for the first time Staale was sitting on the floor, trying to close his suitcase with his phone lying next to him, his call to Mark on speaker.

"This sucks!" he grumbled, tugging at the zipper. "Traveling’s fun, but packing for three months is an issue. I wish I could just live with you."

They had decided to spend the summer together and then go to New Zealand together. And while Staale was looking forward to seeing Mark again, he could definitely do without the massive amounts of luggage.

"Uh," Mark made. "Actually… I may have been looking at houses…?"

Staale let go of the zipper and stared at the phone incredulously. It had just been a throwaway remark. Was Mark actually serious?

"You mean houses for like… us?" he asked.

Mark laughed. “Yeah. I was just curious. And… we’ve been together for over three years now and Craig’s been nagging me about getting my own place forever now. I mean… you don’t have to of course, Canada is ages away from Norway and I know your family’s important to you. I just… wanted something that is ours.”

Staale scratched his neck but smiled. “That sounds awesome,” he said. It would solve half of their problems and eliminate the feeling of missing Mark all the time. Okay, maybe 40% of that because they were traveling all the time anyway. But it would be better.

"Really?" Mark asked hopefully.

Staale laughed. “Yeah… Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

  
  


  
  


Things got hectic then. Staale had to do some convincing with his family and friends that yes, moving to Canada was really what he wanted; No, he would not quit RK1 or the Norwegian Snowboarding team; Yes, he would still visit and Maybe there would be pets. The last one had been curtesy of Sven, weirdly.

  
  


They used their time at Mark’s parents house to brainstorm and discuss where exactly they wanted to live.

"Well, we could look in Regina but we could also move to… I don’t know, Vancouver or Toronto," Mark suggested.

Staale mostly just shrugged. “I like Saskatchewan. Even though it’s flat as shit.”

"It’s also closer to Colorado… But the flight from Vancouver is probably shorter."

"I really don’t care that much," Staale said. "All your friends live here."

Mark frowned. “It really wouldn’t be fair if you had to leave everything behind and I get to keep my social circle.”

Staale rolled his eyes. “We’re not home 90% of the time anyway.” Which... was the wrong thing to say.

"Why are we doing this at all then?!" Mark snapped and left the room, slamming the door behind himself.

A minute later Craig stuck his head in. “Trouble in paradise?” Staale sighed, which was apparently all the answer Craig needed. “I’ll talk to him.”

"No, it’s fine," Staale said, shaking his head. "I’ll do it, once he’s calmed down a little."

He just sat in Mark's room for a while, nervousness twisting in his stomach, before he got up and followed Mark to the backyard. He knew that's where he fled to when they fought and he had to leave his own room because it was usually him who stomped out and slammed doors.

Staale walked barefoot over the freshly mowed grass towards the wooden dock. Mark was sitting at the end, his feet dangling in the water, his hands planted on the wood. When Staale was close enough he could see that Mark's head was lowered and he was looking at his feet making little waves in the water.

“Hey,” Staale said, carefully sitting down next to him, his feet joining Mark's in the water.

Mark didn't look up. “Hi,” he mumbled.

“I'm sorry,” Staale said. “What I said was stupid.”

“No, you're right.”

Staale sighed. “Mark, look at me.”

Mark's feet stilled and then he slowly looked up, squinting at Staale in the sun. Staale smiled. “Hi,” he said, raising a hand to brush a stray lock from Mark's eyes. “Now listen to me, okay? What I said might have been true but it still wasn't _right_. Sure, we travel a lot, but I want to be able to come home to our own place. I want a home with you. And one day we won't be traveling a lot anymore and then I want to settle down _with you_. Because I love you.”

There was silence for a moment, then Mark let his head drop on Staale's shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

Staale brought his hand up to Mark's hair, stroking it softly. “It's okay.”

“I overreacted. I know you didn't mean it.”

“I know. It's alright.”

They sat there for a while, water sloshing around their ankles, the sun gleaming on the lake until Mark finally straightened up. “Come on, let's go and see if dinner's ready soon.”

“Sounds like a good plan. And then we can ask your parents about Vancouver and Toronto and listen to Craig listing obscure facts,” Staale said with a grin. He got up and pulled Mark up, too.

  
They decided on Vancouver eventually, arguing that on the off-chance that they didn't like it they could just move back to Regina. Real estate was a good investment either way.

So they took a week-long trip to the city and met up with some agents and looked at houses and flats.

“You do know that statistically long-distance relationships last longer than couples who live together?” Craig said, trailing behind them. They were only on the second house that day and still in good spirits. Except Craig of course always had to poke fun.

Mark turned around and narrowed his eyes at him. “Stop talking shit.”

"You’re just jealous," Staale quipped.

“No, it's actually scientifically proven.”

“So what?” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “I don't care. We've lasted for over three years now and getting a house together won't suddenly break us up.”

“Fine. But make me best man at the wedding. Or flower girl.”

  
  


They were discussing how many rooms exactly they would need and if three bedrooms were too much over dinner. There were two houses they had really liked and mostly the difference was just between the numbers of rooms.

“You could just buy a giant mansion,” Craig mused. “Since you’re rich and all.”

They rolled their eyes at the same time. “Definitely not rich,” Mark said.

“Only better off than most other people then. Privileged little boy.”

“We’re not getting a mansion just so you can live with us for weeks at a time. Get your own house.”

“Rude,” Craig pouted. “So this is how you repay two decades of love.”

“I love you a lot, Craiger Bear,” Mark grinned and put an arm around Staale’s shoulder. “But I love Staale more.” He kissed his cheek. “You can’t thirdwheel it forever, big bro.”

Craig gasped in mock exasperation. Staale laughed. Being around Mark and Craig had always been so easy for him, even in the beginning when he barely knew them, that there was no doubt for him that this would work. Mark and him would get a great place of their own and it would be awesome.

  
  


A month later they owned a house. Staale felt a little nauseous whenever he thought about it. They actually owned a house. Not rented, _bought_. They had a mortgage obviously because they didn't have the cash lying around to just buy a three-bedroom house in Vancouver. But it was still theirs. It was _theirs_.

It turned out that moving from one country to another – from one _continent_ to another – was harder than Staale had expected. Everything was more complicated than he had thought it would be. He was used to traveling a lot, he was used to not being at home most of the time and living out of suitcases and sleeping in beds that weren't his and on planes and even in airports. But uprooting your entire life and getting all the things you owned and wanted to take with you was a totally different thing.

Especially when you had to coordinate it from two thousand miles away. Maybe they hadn't actually thought this through as thoroughly as they should have.

“I'll have to go home before the season really starts and actually pack stuff myself,” Staale told Mark on their flight to New Zealand.

“How very tragic,” Mark said, “it's not like I have to do the same or anything.”

Staale grinned. “Sorry. But at least your stuff doesn't have to cross an ocean.”

“True,” Mark nodded. “But you're still not getting out of furniture shopping with me.”

  
  


So after some good snow sessions in New Zealand Staale came back with Mark to Canada again and they went to IKEA in Richmond. Which was horribly clichéd, as Staale complained, but Mark argued that it was convenient and looked pretty while not being outrageously expensive. “Also you're not even Swedish and clichées aren't always bad.” Which, okay, he couldn't argue with that. But if Craig made any jokes there would be trouble.

They were strolling through the store, sometimes picking out pieces of furniture that they liked. “Okay,” Staale said, leaning against a bookshelf. “We've already got a kitchen picked out. And we can basically get everything later if we forget something. What's most important?”

Mark grinned. “A dinner table and a bed.”

Staale laughed. “Right. So, let's go find a bed?”

“Yeah, let's give them something to talk about and test some beds,” Mark said, wiggling his eyebrows and Staale snorted.

“Let's not get thrown out, alright?”

They did receive some strange looks, which grew even stranger when a girl approached them while they were discussing dark versus light wood colour.

Staale noticed her standing a few feet away from them, her eyes darting between them shyly but curiously, an older man standing behind her, obviously her father. He recognized the expression of a more cautious fan when he saw one. He smiled at her and nudged Mark slightly so he would turn around.

“Hi,” they said at the same time and laughed about that. Mark even waved. The girl's face split into a small smile.

“Hello,” she said, blushing. “I'm sorry, I don't want to bother you.”

“It's okay,” Staale said.

“We're not really getting anywhere with our discussion anyway.”

Staale stuck his tongue out at him.

The girl snorted, obviously trying to stifle her giggle, and Mark grinned at her which Staale thought was perfectly fine. He still snuck an arm around Mark's waist, smiling brightly when he saw the girl's eyes being drawn to the motion.

Their relationship wasn't a secret. At all. They had always been close, even when they had still “only” been friends, always near each other, most of the time touching and not ashamed to hold hands in public – and videos – either. So when they actually fell in love and eventually fessed up to that and kissed in front of cameras it wasn't really a surprise. Or well, it shouldn't have been to anyone and they didn't really care about the people for which it was. But Staale still liked seeing the reactions to the physical displays of affection they showed in public, liked judging people based on that because it made it easy to see who he could trust on a basic human level.

The girl smiled and quickly looked up again. “I really didn't want to interrupt you or anything. I just wanted to ask if I could get a picture with both of you if that's okay.”

“Sure,” Mark said, leaning into Staale's side a little before moving to make room for the girl between them.

“You don't have to move,” she said quickly. “I can just stand next to you.”

Staale shook his head. “That'd look awkward.”

“We appreciate it though,” Mark said with a grin and took a step to the side. “Come on.”

She beamed and stepped between them.

“Do you want to take a selfie or let your Dad take the picture?” Staale asked.

“Umm...” She thought about it for a second, then dug her phone out of her pocket and gave it to her father. “Selfies with three peoples have too many awkward angles.”

“Smart girl,” Staale grinned.

“You'll go far in life,” Mark promised and she pouted.

“Don't make fun of me.”

“Sorry,” Staale said. “We don't really know how to have conversations without being ridiculous.”

“Makes sense,” she shrugged. “I don't really know how to have conversations at all.”

Staale paused and looked at her for a moment. “I think you're doing a good job,” he said.

“Don't be too hard on yourself,” Mark added.

She smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

They shuffled around a little until they were ready to take the picture – her Dad took three, just to be safe. “Thank you,” she said afterwards. “You guys are great. You inspire a lot of people... You inspire me.”

“Thanks,” Staale grinned.

“We're glad we do,” Mark added. “Oh, and have a little more pride in your abilities, alright?”

She nodded. “I'll try.”

“Good,” Staale said. Seeing people who doubted themselves so much mad him feel bad and he always hoped that they could make a little difference in their lives. “I hope we see you around.”

“Depends on what you're buying furniture for,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand a moment later. “Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude.”

“It's okay,” Mark laughed. “But yeah, we're moving in together. So we might see you around if you live in the city.”

“I do, but Vancouver's big,” she said, shrugging.

“True, but you never know.”

She nodded and grinned. “I better go now, really, so my Dad can buy the lamp he came here to get.”

“Do that. Lamps are important,” Staale said.

She hugged both of them goodbye and then walked a few steps, stopped and turned around again. “Oh, by the way, a lighter coloured bed is probably the way to go. Dark is so middle ages.”

  
  


It turned out that the bed itself wasn't the problem. The mattress was.

They had always known that Mark liked soft mattresses better than hard ones and for Staale it was the other way around. But it had never been a real problem before because when you couldn't do anything about it and were really tired, you slept everywhere. Obviously though for your own bed, there were some standards. And when the standards of two people didn't line up it made for quite an argument.

“They're better for your back,” Staale argued.

“Well, I don't really care, okay? I sleep better on the soft ones!” Mark complained.

Staale grit his teeth. This was the most ridiculous thing to argue over and he hated every second of it. “How is this gonna work if we can't even agree on a mattress?” he asked.

Mark sat up on the mattress they were currently testing. “No, come on now. I'm the one who's supposed to say the stupid things here.”

Staale sighed and sat up, too, pushing his hair back. “I know, I know. But like... if we already can't buy a bed together, what will it be like if we ever get married? We already argue like an old couple.”

“Married?” Mark asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Well, yeah. You never thought about it before?” Staale mumbled. He had just assumed... Yeah, what really? That Mark really wanted to spend the rest of his life with him?

“Actually, yes...,” Mark said, before Staale's thoughts could tear his confidence down even further.

“You thought about marrying me?” Staale asked.

Mark scratched the back of his head. “Once or twice? You did, too?”

Staale nodded and felt the smile creeping back on his face. “We're idiots,” he stated. Then he leaned in to kiss Mark, who eagerly met him in the middle.

Which was why they ended up making-out on a Matrand mattress in an IKEA. Until an employee clad in yellow cleared their throat next to them. Mark looked at them sheepishly. “Sorry,” he grinned. “But you gotta test them somehow, right?” The employee just rolled their eyes.

Mark turned back to Staale. “We could get a waterbed,” he said.

“Are you insane?” Staale asked. “That would break like within twenty minutes.”

“We're adults. It wouldn't,” Mark said, apparently with as much seriousness as he could muster. “But really, think about it. They're really good for the back and stuff and I think I read somewhere that they come with two mattresses so we could get a firm one for you and a less firm one for me.”

Staale raised an eyebrow. “We could just do that with two regular mattresses though.”

“It'd be more work.”

“Setting up a waterbed takes more time. And it's more expensive. And they break really easily. Like... zippers break them. Zippers, Mark!”

Mark looked at him and pouted. “Pleaseee?”

They got a waterbed.

  
  


 

By the time winter came Staale had barely moved half of his belongings to their house and the waterbed still wasn't assembled. The season arrived in a whirlwind of competitions, filming, wins and interviews and it was almost Christmas by the time they carried the last box into their new home.

“This could have gone a lot faster,” Mark observed.

“You insisted on that holiday in California. And flying to Norway with him. And staying at home a week longer,” Craig said, carrying a toaster past where they were sitting on the couch – one of the few pieces of furniture that was already where it was supposed to be. Staale had no idea what Craig was doing with the toaster though.

“Go home, Craig!” they said at the same time.

“I can't,” I sighed. “I promised Mom to help you.”

“And I promised Mom that we could celebrate Christmas here,” Mark added.

“We have a week,” Staale said. “That's not enough time.”

“If you would do some work instead of sitting around and complaining we could be done in two days,” Craig said from where he was plugging the toaster into a socket. In the wall in the living room. Or what would one day be the living room.

“What are you doing?” Mark asked tiredly.

“What does it look like? Making toast, obviously. I'm hungry.”

“The kitchen is already fully installed,” Staale said, incredulously. “You don't have to make toast in the living room.” Sometimes he really, really doubted Craig's sanity. A lot.

“But the kitchen is so far away.”

“You're a lazy asshole,” Mark said, leaning back into the cushions.

Craig snorted. “That I am,” he confirmed.

He was generous enough to share his toast with them though which gave them the boost they needed to set up the table and chairs in the dining room and the big wardrobe in the master bedroom. Then Craig worked some magic and called a few people that would set up the waterbed on the next day.

“Maybe he isn't insane,” Mark mused, sitting on the kitchen floor and rubbing at his eyes. “Maybe he's just a wizard.”

“Maybe he's an insane wizard. An evil one. A sorcerer.”

Mark laughed loudly and almost hit his head on the side of the counter.

“Shut the fuck up or I'll burn you with my magic!” Craig yelled from the hallway where he was putting up a mirror on the wall. Which was very ironic, Staale thought, because there were a lot of magical mirrors in fairytales.

He definitely needed some sleep.

  
  


They spent the night on the bed in one of the two guest rooms because _that one_ had an assembled bed. Craig slept in the living room because he had been to lazy to puzzle together the pieces of the second bed at 10pm after setting up a bookshelf.

The next day they made some real progress and the living and dining rooms were entirely furnished by midday. “Tomorrow we can start unpacking,” Mark said happily, examining their work.

“Only if we get the bedrooms done, too,” Staale said, putting his elbow on Mark's shoulder so he could lean on him. “And I guess the basement can wait a few more days.”

“Yeah,” Mark nodded. “Man, I'm so happy the bathrooms are already done.”

“And who deserves all the credit for that?” Craig asked from the door. They turned around, Staale's arm slipping from Mark's shoulder.

“The plumbers,” they said at the same time.

“Definitely not you,” Staale added.

Craig frowned. “Come on, I always deserve a little credit.”

“You were up at Whistler when they did the bathrooms, you deserve nothing,” Mark deadpanned.

“Rude,” Craig said and shuffled towards the kitchen, mumbling about “two decades of love” and ungrateful little brothers.

Staale chuckled. “I think he's angry that he's losing you,” he said, wrapping his arms around Mark from behind. Mark sighed and Staale could feel him nod.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, we're apart a lot but we've also spent a lot of time doing things together and so far we've always come home to each other and our family, you know? We've never known anything different. I'm scared, yeah, but I have _you_ and he's just as scared as I am and he won't have me anymore.”

Staale nuzzled his neck. “He'll still have you,” he said. “He'll always have you, Mark. You're his brother. That won't change just because you live somewhere else now.”

“I know, but I don't think he sees it that way,”Mark said, leaning back into him.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Staale suggested. “Communication is key, right?”

“You're right. But not today.” He turned around in Staale's arms and kissed him and Staale couldn't really think of an argument against that, so he kissed back. Kissing Mark was one of his favorite things to do, actually. He could just do it for hours. Although there were things that were even better, but probably not in the middle of the day with Mark's brother around.

“Gross!” Craig yelled like on cue, walking past the room again. “Good thing I'm going out tonight.”

“Mhmm,” Mark whispered into Staale's ear. “Good thing indeed.”

  
  


Craig really did go out that night because apparently he had friends that were “not as sickeningly in love as you two” and he had better things to do than “watch you make out the entire night”. Which probably was only his passive aggressive way of saying that he would go out and get drunk.

As promised, their waterbed had been assembled by helping hands and Staale meant to put it to good use.

He found Mark in the bedroom – fittingly – where he was just getting done putting the sheets on the bed. Hearing him enter Mark turned around and smiled at him. “Isn't it great?” he asked, motioning at the bed.

“Definitely is,” Staale agreed and stepped closer, putting his hands on Mark's hips.

Mark grinned at him. “And we've got the house all to ourselves now.”

“Our house,” Staale said. “Without annoying brothers.”

“Can't imagine what we're supposed to do with all this freedom,” Mark mused but Staale could clearly see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I can.” He slowly trailed his hands up Mark's sides, causing him to shiver even though there still was a layer of clothing between them.

“Mhmm... wanna tell me about it?”

“How about I just show you?” Staale asked and then gave Mark a little push. Mark let himself fall on the bed willingly, grinning up at Staale who crawled onto the bed after him.

“This feels nice,” Mark said.

“I haven't even started yet,” Staale said and Mark laughed.

“I meant the bed.”

“Oh...”

Mark put his arms around Staale's neck and pulled him closer. “But I think I like you more than the bed.”

“That's good to know,” Staale grinned, kissing him.

Mark's shirt had rucked up when he had fallen on the bed and Staale _really_ liked putting his hands on him. He'd do it every minute of every day if he could but that might prove difficult while boarding – he did try sometimes though, hence all the handholding. He sneaked his hands under the shirt and trailed them up and down Mark's sides, pushing up the shirt a little further. Then he ducked down and started leaving a trail of kisses over Mark's abs until he ended up at his right hipbone. He slightly grinned against Mark's skin and then started kissing again. And sucking. He was determined to leave the most impressive hickey. Which... wouldn't really impress anyone except if Mark took his shirt off. Maybe he should have him run around shirtless for a few days. That sounded like a good plan.

It didn't take long for him after that to actually get Mark to take the shirt off entirely. He had to let him sit up for that, but it also gave him the chance to take off his own shirt.

“Leaving bruises already, are you?” Mark said with a grin after he chucked his shirt off the bed.

“It's a hickey, not a bruise,” Staale retorted and kissed Mark's shoulder.

“Mhmm,” Mark made. “Technically hickey's are bruises too, no matter what Katy Perry says. Broken blood vessels and all.”

Staale chose to ignore him. “I can give you bruises, too,” he mumbled against his skin instead.

“Okay,” Mark said, a little breathlessly.

  
  


  
  


The bed survived that night. However when Craig decided to give them a puppy for Christmas, that was an entirely different matter. He was a mutt Craig had picked up at the shelter and possibly the cutest thing Staale had ever seen.

When he was unobserved for a moment however he sneaked into their bedroom, jumped onto the bed and promptly started gnawing at it. When Mark found him upstairs there was water leaking on the floor and the puppy was sulking in a corner.

Craig was banished to the basement as obviously both the guest rooms were occupied with their parents. Mark and Staale slept on the couch in the living room and afterwards decided that the waterbed had to go, because even if they got if fixed, the dog would be a constant risk to it.

So they went back to IKEA and had the entire mattress discussion all over again, ultimately going for medium firmness. Because compromises were better than wet floors.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :) Thanks also go to the amazing [Sammy](http://sammylostshoe.tumblr.com), as usual, for being a kickass beta and supplying me with ideas.
> 
> Title was inspired by Cassadee Pope's "Good Times".
> 
> Leave kudos or a comment if you liked it, please? <3  
> I've also got a [Tumblr](http://mcsandburg.tumblr.com). Come check it out and talk to me!


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